You've Got Time
by taylordswift
Summary: Clarke is a new inmate at Litchfield, where she meets Lexa, Alex, Raven, Octavia, Piper, etc.


The bus ride made Clarke nauseous - or at least she told herself it was the bus ride and not the fact that she was headed straight to an all women's prison. The orange all around her made her dizzy, so she looked outside her window, watching as the other cars dashed by and wishing she could be in any of them. Wishing she could change lives with any one of those people. Wishing but getting nowhere.

"Single file line, ladies!" a prison guard with a caterpillar for a mustache hollered at the women as they stepped off the bus. Clarke followed behind a short Hispanic girl who had the words "FREEDOM" tattooed on the back of her shaved skull. Clarke found it so terribly ironic, she almost started laughing, but then someone from behind pushed her forward and she bumped into the Freedom Girl.

"Hey, watch it, white girl," she spat. Literally. She spat on Clarke's shoes, to which the blonde backed up more out of fear than anything else.

"Move it, princess," the woman who had pushed her urged from behind, so Clarke did.

When they reached the entrance, a small woman greeted them kindly.

"Welcome to Litchfield, girls," she smiled. "Why don't we start with introductions? I'm Morello."

"Clarke," she was the first.

"Oh, we go by last names here, honey," Morello smiled.

"Griffin, then," Clarke corrected herself, feeling herself go red. Of course they go by last names here.

"Blake," the woman behind her added. They went on a bit hesitantly until all twelve new inmates were introduced.

"Very well, then, let's begin our tour," Morello said, leading them down a hallway. "This office here is Mr. Healy's, that one is Mr. Kane's, and down the hall is Mr. Caputo's. Each of you should have been assigned a counselor by now. That's gonna be either Healy or Kane," she explained. "Good luck to those of you who got Healy," she chuckled to herself.

"Over here, we have the kitchen and cafeteria." It was large and dark and dirty, with long tables filling up the room clumsily, upon which inmates in khaki and orange sat grumbling to themselves. "You get either A lunch or B lunch. Otherwise you're working or, you know, trying not to get yourself into any trouble."

Working? Clarke decided not to ask for fear of being too obvious again that this was her first time in prison - not that it should really be something to be ashamed about.

Morello walked them by the TV room where a group of black girls yelled at the screen, through the courtyard and church where a weird cult-like group of white girls circled a quiet old lady, until finally leading them each to their temporary rooms.

"Good luck, Griffin," Morello said, before leaving her in a small, claustrophobic room with two sets of bunk beds. Three of them were already occupied so she assumed the extra one was hers. It was a bottom bunk, but she didn't complain.

"Griffin, is it?" one of the women asked once Clarke had finally made her bed and settled in. For the first time, she looked at them. The one who had spoken was dark-haired and strangely attractive, with thick black glasses and a red-lipped smile. Clarke nodded.

"I'm Vause," the woman said. "That's Reyes." The only non-white of the four, lying in her bed, eyes closed and shirt tied up above her stomach, showing her soft tan skin. "And that's Lexa." She pointed above Clarke's head, so she turned to the top bunk to find a very uninterested, beautiful, tattooed, and dangerously mysterious brunette, reading a book and a twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers.

"I thought we used last names here," Clarke wondered out loud.

"Lexa's a rebel like that," the girl named Reyes said, half-jokingly, as she sat up and eyed Clarke. "What are you in for anyway, blondie? Tax evasion or some lame ass rich girl shit like that?" Vause smiled at this, clearly entertained. Lexa, however, seemed to remain unaware that there was anyone else in the room but her, which Clarke appreciated.

"Well, technically…" Clarke began, nervously. "Murder."


End file.
